by Forgy, M. N.
“What’s the longest it’s taken you to get someone to snitch?” Mac asks, reading my mind. I was just thinking how I’ve gotten further with others in this amount of time.
“Forty-eight hours,” I clip, remembering the particular ass-wipe I broke like it was yesterday. We were on a run to pick up some drugs and nobody showed up. Zeek found a prospect of the club we were doing business with and gave him to me, and though he put up a tough fight, he gave in eventually. They were going to take our money and not supply the goods. That didn’t end well for anyone in that club.
“And how long have you had her?” Mac tilts his head toward the bathroom that holds the shitty shower.
“Awhile,” I reply, rubbing the stubble on my chin. Warmth hits my cheeks as I get angry at where he’s taking this. Doubting my skills.
Mac chuckles. “I bet money you don’t get her to crack in thirty-eight hours,” he challenges me.
“From now?” I ask with pinched brows.
“From now,” he clarifies with a nod.
“It’s a bet,” I accept. But my gut has me second guessing my cockiness. Raven isn’t like anyone I’ve come across before. I have no leverage over her as she has no loved ones or family. She has nobody. I am searching in the dark for things to break this woman with.
A hard past I know nothing but pieces about.
“Hey, get ahold of Felix and have him ask Alessandra for an address to where Raven was living, maybe I can dig something up to help bring this along,” I instruct. Hoping wherever she lived there will be pictures, hobbies, maybe a fucking pet I can use against her. Something.
Mac sighs, standing from the couch slowly, his arms stretched up he yawns.
“You’re the boss,” he replies on an exhale, and I scoff.
Stepping into the bathroom, Raven’s head whips in my direction. Her black hair is short and wet, framing her face perfectly, droplets of water hanging from her thick lashes as she stares at me with a lost look. Those pink perky lips part just before she tucks her bottom lip between her teeth.
Her body is soaked, her pink lace bra and matching panties wet and leaving very little to the imagination. Her nipples are dark against her skin, and she looks to have some light pubic hair beneath the material of those bottoms. Most girls that fuck around don’t keep a little bush like that, my dick pulses thinking of how inexperienced she might be. The things I could teach her…
I look down, pinching the bridge of my nose. Reminding myself that she betrayed us, hurt my brotherhood, and is a target. My president wants her to hurt and that is what I intend to do.
“Time’s up,” I bark, she sighs and turns the water off.
Unlocking the chain from the heater, I jerk it and she stumbles behind me. Her wet feet pitter-pattering behind me as we pass the wall of pain. That’s what I call it as that’s what it’s intended for. A table and wall full of shit to torture people with. I don’t even know what some of the tools do. She stops mid-walk making the chain tight. Her mouth drops, her eyes filling with tears as she gasps at the sight. I can’t help the smirk that passes my face, the terror wracking her pretty little head is a dent in that hard exterior of hers. Turning around I step up behind her as she stares at the weapons with her jaw dropped in astonishment. Against my better judgment, I run both my hands up the crook of her neck, my nose nuzzling in the back of her wet hair. She smells of forbidden apples.
“Which one should we use first? Hmm?” I whisper into the back of her wet head. “We could have some fun with a couple of these,” I taunt, and I try to scare her. Maybe she’ll turn around and claw at me to save her.
“You’re… You’re an animal,” she stammers, and I can’t help but laugh. My body feeds into her terror, and I pull her back flush with my front.
“I can fuck like one too,” I breathe against her huskily. Slightly she turns her head, her lashes fluttering quickly as she takes in a quick breath. As humans, we try to hide what we’re feeling but our eyes speak louder than we realize, and Raven’s just told me she like my inner animal. Inhaling her apple scent one last time, I let go of her neck and step in front of her. I jerk the metal chain, forcing her to follow me back into her cell. When she steps foot into the room, I grip her by the arm and just as I’m about to place her in the pissed soaked chair she digs the heels of her feet into the floor and resists.
“I’m not fucking sitting in that chair!” She pulls at her chains, a scowl passing her face.
“Excuse me?” My brows narrow at her tone. She’s a brave woman defying me after just showing her the wall of pain.
“You heard me. I didn’t just shower just to go back into a pissed stained chair,” she clarifies.
My chest rises with rage, and I slowly saunter up to her. My movement mimicking a curious cobra.
“You will sit where I fucking make you sit. Do you understand?” I whisper in her face, her eyes dancing back and forth between mine.
“Go for it, just try and make me sit there,” she mutters back, the fire on her tongue sparking something inside my chest I haven’t felt in a long time. Maybe I underestimated her fear looking at the wall of pain. Maybe she’s not scared at all but intrigued.
Nostrils flaring, I reach for her and she high kicks me in the chest. The impact makes me take a few steps back, my arms flailing sideways.
Not backing down, she pulls the chain from her foot and wraps it around my neck before she busts her forehead into mine. Black wet hair whipping me in the face in the process. Pressure and warmth slip across my head just as she falls to the ground, the hit too great for her to take. Like a spider, she grabs at the ground for purchase as she tries to make her way to the door to escape.
Shaking away the stars behind my eyes, I grit my teeth and grip the chain that is still attached to her ankle. I jerk it so hard she flies backward onto the hard concrete like something out of a movie. Her back slamming against the ground, arms flailing everywhere.
A loud gasp escapes her tempting lips as the wind is knocked from her small body.
Standing, I pull the chain toward me, link by link, and her body slides closer and closer to me. Her eyes roll in her head as she’s languid and not fighting back at all.
Her forehead is bleeding where she hit me, and the sight of it unravels me. My dick becoming hard at the sight of her defiance and strength.
Bending down, I pick her up and throw her wet body over my shoulder, sauntering over to the shitty cot in the corner, I toss her limp body onto it. The springs squeak and resists as she rolls back and forth and moans and gasps for air. Taking the chain, I lock it to the cot that is bolted to the floor. It’s a twin bed with a thin shitty mattress. I don’t even know why it’s in here.
Blood drips from her head and it captivates me, summoning me in a way I don’t understand. Staring down at her, I observe the look of her soft cheeks and supple lips, the fucking smell she puts off alone corrupts me into a delusional man. She’s breaking every rule I have about being around a female this long, yet I can’t seem to stay away. I can’t resist her. I press my thumb into the blood and smear an M with it on her chest. I don’t know why I do it, I have no reason behind making it an M. Something deep inside of me just wants my initial on her skin.
Gripping her by her wet hair, I curl my fingers in it tightly, her hair snapping in my grip. A soft mewl whispers from her lips in response. Lowering my face, I feel her breath against my face, her eyelashes fluttering as she’s barely conscious.
“Where is Cross?” I seethe. Hoping her daze and pain will make her say something she doesn’t mean. If she would just fucking tell me, then I could get far away from her.
Her warm breath licks across my lips as she whimpers in my hold. Her eyes fluttering as she uses her elbows to push herself off the mattress, her face getting closer to mine as she quickly gains her strength back.
My heart skips a beat thinking she’s finally going to give in and give me what I want.
“Go… fuck yourself,” she whispers before teeth bi
te into my lip so hard a roar throttles my chest. I tear away from her, my hand throwing her head back onto the mattress.
She begins to laugh hysterically, and rage fuels every vessel in my body. My eyes cloud with a hostile darkness and I pull my knife from its sheath and press it up against her throat. Her last giggle making her throat press into the blade just enough for it to scratch the skin.
Her laugh fades, her eyes looking into mine. Lost, dark eyes that see right through everything I am. God, I want her to cry or beg me to stop. I need her to know I’m in control. I need her to hate me, loathe me goddamn it.
“Scream for me,” I beg her, needing to hear her pain, and watch the blood drain from her beautiful face.
Not scared of me, she presses her neck further onto the blade. A trickle of blood sliding across my recently sharpened machete. My shoulders drop, disappointment wrinkling my sore forehead.
“Fucking do it, pussy,” she dares, and fear strikes me in the chest. A hitch in my breathing wracking my body.
She’s not fucking scared of me. Not at all. I thought she was lying at first, but I’m sure of it now. I gaze at her with a lost look, not sure what to do with this raw feeling in my gut.
I can’t be around her.
I fucking can’t.
A roar rips up my throat like a violent storm as I rip the knife from her throat and back away, running my fingers through my hair, I stare at the first woman in years who is not afraid of me, and captivates me.
She scares me and intrigues me.
Goose bumps slither across her silky arms as she shivers where she lies. Being underground the temperature drops significantly at night and becomes hot as the den of hell during the day. With her being wet, I’m sure the coldness is even worse.
Needing away from her fast, I back up to the doorway, my heart beating in my chest like a drum.
Turning the lights off, her body suddenly shoots up off the bed.
“Don’t! Please, leave the lights on,” she pleads, and that little bit of courage I need to keep my fucking head on straight and focus, resurfaces. The lost look in her eyes, the way her mouth parts to allow the harsh breath she can’t seem to catch making my dick stiffen in my jeans.
Her fear. That little part I need to keep my emotions separate from my job in the depths of her eyes.
“Scream for me,” I repeat, and slam the door shut. Concealing her in her biggest fear, the dark, and being alone.
She screams, and my head thuds against the metal door as I listen to her. Raven’s fear comforts me and reminds me of the job at hand and not my dick in my pants.
I let a woman in my heart not so long ago and lost control of the relationship, only to lose her for good in the end. I will never allow that to happen again, I swore it to myself. Yet here I am… losing control over the first female I let around me longer than it takes me to blow my load into their sweet cunt.
Raven screams, cusses, and jerks the chain around the room like a mad person trapped in a psych-ward.
Leaving the door shut, I head back into the main room, stabbing my machete into the wooden coffee table. I sit on the couch and think about the bitch in the other room. Her tongue sharp, and defiance tempting. She’s my perfect toy. One that is filled with dark rage and blessed with perfected beauty. It makes me want to hear her scream so hard her voice gives out and to see those dark eyes bloodshot and silently begging me for mercy. I need her to look at me like I’m her fucking world existing of both heaven and hell.
I’ve tried to run from pain, but when it burns so deep the only thing that relinquishes its agony is to induce it upon others. This life has no room for love or kindness, it’s brutal and without mercy. The only thing that matters is brotherhood, your family and the only reason for my future.
When I’m hurting others everything else disappears. No past, no future. Just the present.
Grabbing the pack of cigarettes off the table I pluck one out with my lips and light it, blowing smoke into the cool air. Observing the shit Mac brought me. Some light groceries, a Dr. Dre speaker, and some weed. Basic survival shit. I touch my head where she head-butt me and glance at the bite marks on my arm. She’s fucking me up.
I can’t help the smirk that kicks up on my face. Fucking wild woman.
An hour passes and I haven’t taken my eyes off the door across from me. She stopped screaming about twenty minutes ago and the silence is deafening. I’m almost tempted to turn the light on, just to turn it off and hear her scream all over again.
Her agony is like a lullaby to my pain. Reminding me of where I belong. Alone.
The camouflaged door behind me opens and Gatz walks in. The room instantly smells of expensive cologne overpowering the skunk smell of my weed. I notice his cut doesn’t have a speck of dirt on it, and his blondish hair isn’t out of place in one spot. His Sergent At Arms patch is a perfect shade of white even. He’s so well put together, and the oddest out of the bunch. He’s the sergeant at arms. Zeek found him selling guns that he pieced together himself. He had the balls to try and sell to Zeek without an appointment or anything. When Zeek fired Gatz’s weapon it was unlike anything he’d seen before. Gatz had potential and was taken under the wing of the club immediately.
Fuck, I’m not entirely sure I didn’t wear this shirt yesterday and Gatz never wears the same shirt twice. Fucking yuppy.
“How ya doin’ down here in the hole?” he asks with a smile, his hands tucked into his jeans pocket.
“Doin’,” I reply, sitting back and gawking at the door across the room.
Gatz struts over to the metal door that conceals my toy and opens it slowly. He saunters into the room and looks her over, and my heartbeat speeds up as he gawks at her. Something in me doesn’t like him this close to her. Zeek gave her to me.
“She’s cold,” he observes, and I hold back a laugh. Gatz always was the nicest one out of us all. If he were in charge of Raven, he’d probably make that cell a fucking suite by now. New mattress and the softest of comforters. He’d probably give her a mirror and women shit too. His heart is too big for me to fucking handle.
“So what?” I bite back, looking down at the table. I know she’s cold but she’s not exactly here for comfort is she? If I gave her a blanket I would be crossing a line I can’t come back from.
“So… I was just saying?” He shrugs defensively before coming back out of the room and shutting the door. “Dick,” he curses under his breath, and I laugh. Standing on the other side of the coffee table I can feel him looking at me without having to even look up.
“What?” I growl.
“You going to be okay with this?” My eyes snap to his, and he tilts his head to the side with a concerned look on his face.
“I’m just saying, she looks a lot like—”
“I’m fine,” I interrupt him before he can say her name. My ex-wife Liviana. Raven looks a lot like her, except Raven is shorter and has a temper and a lost soul much like my own. Liviana was more of a down to earth person and drop dead fucking gorgeous. I never deserved her to begin with. It was like putting a tornado in a valley of wild flowers. I took her sun and replaced it with shadows. Ripped her up by the root and destroyed her vibrant way of life.
She’s the reason I can’t be around women, the reason I am the way I am. The reason I am best left alone. I’m too hostile, too much to handle for any woman. I am to blame for her death.
Sitting down next to me, Gatz grabs the bag of weed and stuffs the one hitter lying next to it and lights it. His small body rising as he takes a large hit.
“This whole thing is fucked up,” he says on an exhale making his voice sound muffled.
Taking the one-hitter from him I nod in agreement and take a hit myself. Needing my mind to shut the fuck up. It’s so back and forth with how much I want to run my fingers over her soft skin and to mar it all at the same time.
“I just feel like we are rocking the boat taking Raven,” Gatz shrugs softly, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air.
/> Sitting back, I press my lips into a shape of an O and exhale the smoke that dances in my lungs.
“Oh no, brother, we ain’t rocking the boat, we’re sinking that motherfucker!” I grin as smoke swirls from my nose. Taking one of Cross’s crew, we are either really fucking brave, or stupid.
“So what are you going to do to her?” Gatz asks, knowing things should be bloody by now.
“I don’t know. I was thinking about whipping her, but she doesn’t respond to pain in any way.” My dick swells liking the thought of spanking her.
“That sounds… kinky,” Gatz laughs. “What if she likes it?”
Slowly I turn his way and bite my cheek to keep the wolfish smile kicking up on my face.
If she likes being spanked, I’m more than fucked at restraining myself from crossing the line of my club. I grab at my growing dick thinking about it. Fuck me, maybe I shouldn’t even attempt it.
I may just fuck the enemy. A taste of something sweet and dark all at the same time.
Then again if Zeek found out, I’d take a bullet for it for sure.
Sounds like a bad idea. Then again, I like bad ideas…
Gatz turns his head sideways has he looks at the wall of pain, confusion crossing his face.
“What?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing, I need to lay off the hash,” he chuckles to himself with a dumbass tone.
“You’re right. You should probably bring me all your weed,” I respond, taking another hit myself. He shakes his head, rubbing his hands back and forth on his jeans.
Grabbing some papers and what’s left of the marijuana in the baggy, I begin to roll us a joint.
“Roll, Roll, Roll your joint,” I sing as I wrap that motherfucker tighter than a nun’s asshole.
“You ain’t right,” Gatz proclaims.
Sliding my tongue along my bottom lip I eye my masterpiece.